


glimpses of you

by saiditallbefore



Category: Captain Marvel (2019)
Genre: Amnesia, Canon amnesia, F/F, Getting Back Together, Introspection, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 19:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18580840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saiditallbefore/pseuds/saiditallbefore
Summary: Memories come in flashes, in glimpses she can almost make sense of. They come mostly at night, dreams and memories blurring together indistinguishably.





	glimpses of you

**Author's Note:**

> Contains minor references to homophobia and DADT.

Carol doesn’t remember everything.

Her memory isn’t a gaping void anymore. She knows the shape of her life before the Kree took her. But it’s just that: a shape. It’s a skeleton with no meat on it.

Memories come in flashes, in glimpses she can almost make sense of. They come mostly at night, dreams and memories blurring together indistinguishably.

* * *

_—they fall into bed together, laughing and kissing, the sheets tangled around them—_

Carol wakes in a sweat.

Already, the dream— _the memory?_ — is slipping away, like sand through her fingers.

She doesn’t try and grasp onto the memory— if that is what it is— too tightly. That’ll only make it slip away faster. 

The hallways are dark and deserted, this late in the ship’s night cycle. If Talos or one of the others were awake, she would invite one of them to spar with her, to help rid herself of this restless energy. It had always worked back on Hala.

Carol shook herself out of _those_ thoughts. The Kree had stolen six years of her life. She would not give them anything else: not her time, not room in her thoughts.

She strides onto the forward deck, giving a nod to the pilot on duty, and stares out the forward viewscreen. Even at the speed they’re travelling, it’ll be days until they reach their destination. 

Carol has a job to do. She doesn’t have time to dwell on dreams.

* * *

— _a dark-skinned woman, twisting her hair into a bun,_ _turns and smiles at Carol._

_“What are you looking at?” Maria asks._

_Carol smiles, steps toward Maria. “Just you.”_

_Maria steps closer, presses a kiss to Carol’s cheek, brushes her hair behind her ear_ —

Carol wakes with a start.

This isn’t the first time she’s dreamed of Maria; in the glimpses Carol has of her time in the Academy and the Air Force, Maria is almost always there. But none of those memories have this kind of intimacy to them.

Is it even a real memory? Carol can’t be sure. Maria is beautiful, and if things were different—

Carol groans in frustration, running her hands through her hair. She has to help the Skrulls establish themselves on their new planet, search for more refugees, and do whatever she can to put an end to this war. She doesn’t have time to sift through the fractured pieces of her memory.

* * *

— _an embrace, then a familiar voice, saying, “Be careful, please.”_

_“You know me.” Carol smiles, and Maria smiles back, but the worried crease between her eyes doesn’t disappear. Carol bumps her shoulder into Maria’s. “Hey. Stop worrying. Everything’s going to be fine.”_ — 

Carol starts awake. Though the dream was solemn, her heart is racing, and she knows she will not fall asleep again tonight.

She ducks out of her tent and looks up at the twin moons that orbit CX-52558. Both are bright tonight, illuminating the landscape.

CX-52558, the new Skrull homeplanet, is desolate, but beautiful. The Skrulls seem to find it to their liking, though, and it is unlikely that the Kree will follow them here. Uninhabited as it is, they will have much to rebuild, but they seem to have expected as much.

Carol could stay and help them, but there’s more for her to do. She has unfinished business on Hala. She has promised Talos that she will seek out any other Skrull refugees she can find.

And her heart is telling her she should return to Earth.

* * *

Rural Louisiana looks much the same as it did last time she was here. And really, despite all that’s happened, it’s only been a few weeks since Carol left.

Someone shrieks. Carol whirls around, looking for the source of trouble, but is instead greeted by a small body slamming into her at full force.

“Auntie Carol!” Monica cries.

Carol grins, and hugs Monica back. When they finally pull apart, Carol tweaks one of Monica’s curls. “How have you been, Lieutenant Trouble?”

“I’m way better now,” she says. “Does Mom know you’re back?”

“She does now,” Maria calls as she steps out the backdoor. 

The ability to breathe seems to leave Carol. “Maria,” she says.

Maria’s expression is inscrutable. She tilts her head toward the open door. “You coming in?”

Carol nods, trailing after Maria into the house.

Maria leans against her kitchen counter. “I thought you had to go stop a war, save the universe— you know, hero stuff.”

“I did. I do.” Carol runs her fingertips along the edge of the table. “But I needed to come see you first.”

Maria raises her eyebrows.

“There’s a lot I don’t remember,” Carol says. “I’ll probably never remember all of it. But sometimes— sometimes I see these glimpses. And a lot of them— they’re about you. About us.”

Maria looks away. “We were…” She pauses. “I don’t know what things are like out there in space, but on Earth, especially in the military—” She shakes her head. “It’s not something we could tell anyone.”

Carol steps forward, but the distance between them still seems unsurpassable. “I don’t remember exactly what we had. I wish I could, believe me. But I know that this—” she gestures to the distance still separating them. “This doesn’t feel right.”

“Carol,” Maria begins, before folding her lips. She’s quiet for a long moment. “Carol, you can’t just _do_ this.”

“Do—”

“I already lost you once,” Maria says. “There wasn’t even a body for them to bury. And now— I don’t even know if I know you anymore. You barely even know _yourself_.”

Carol flinches— that hits too close to home. “Maria—”

“I want to trust you.” Maria looks pained. “I do trust you. But I can’t just pick up where we left off. Not when I know you’re just going to have to leave again.”

Carol strides across the small kitchen, closing the gap between them. She reaches out and takes Maria’s hands. “I can’t promise I won’t leave again. But I can promise to come back.” She holds Maria’s gaze. “I don’t know for sure what we used to be. But I’d like to know what we could be now.”

Maria’s expression softens, and then her lips are on Carol’s, their bodies melding together as Carol braces herself against the countertop Maria is leaning against.

The back door slams shut, followed by the sound of Monica’s hurried footsteps, and the two women pull apart, a little breathless.

Carol still doesn’t remember everything. She probably never will. She still has to deal with the Kree, and to seek out Skrull refugees. And it’s going to take time— maybe even years— for Maria to really believe that she’s always going to come back.

But here and now, with Maria at her side and Monica in the next room, she is at peace.


End file.
